


The Human Hello

by spiritinthespacebar



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Implied Masturbation, Michael is thirsty for her captain, Pining, Romantic Confusion, a conversation about biculturalism that sounds like it might also be about bisexuality, hand touching has Meanings for vulcans, that vulcan eyebrow thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritinthespacebar/pseuds/spiritinthespacebar
Summary: When Michael and Philippa first meet, Michael refuses to shake her captain's hand. Before long, she wishes she hadn't.





	The Human Hello

Michael Burnham had expected that she would have to get used to humans. It had been so many years of unlearning the culture she was about to dive back into. And so many years of learning her own culture--Vulcan culture, which was part of her by now, which was hers, however much it puzzled others. Since accepting her post on the Shenzhou, her mind had been running a constant background reel of missteps her crewmates seemed likely to make. This meant she had played out the scene of meeting her Captain hundreds of times, every one with a crucial mistake of etiquette.

Captain Georgiou confirmed her fears, though the gesture was small. Michael simply ignored the hand that was offered to her; there was no need to highlight when boundaries were overstepped. Instead of shaking hands, she held eye contact with her new commanding officer. But when the Captain led Michael out of the transporter room after their greetings had been made, it surprised Michael to realize that she wished she had accepted the handshake after all.

The thought tugged at her as the day went by. She was able to pay perfectly good attention to the personnel the Captain introduced to her. She managed to tour the ship and internalize everything she needed to know, at least for the moment. But where her background brain processes had circled around her worries about that first interaction, her thoughts were now filled with the imagined pressure of Captain Philippa Georgiou’s hand against her own. Michael had immediately noticed that her hands were slender and her nails were short and unpainted, but she could only guess at whether her fingers were soft or calloused, whether her grip was tight or gentle. She ran through all the permutations, and it was pleasant to think about each and every one.

\--

Of course she had time to muse about it in bed that night (and that night would not be the last). Humans casually greeting each other with contact--a contact that had so much less innocent connotations at home. 

Imagine what else could serve as a human greeting, she thought. In ancient times, humans had kissed each other’s hands upon meeting. In some places, humans would still kiss one another on both cheeks. From a vulcan perspective, these were not much more laughable than platonic handshakes. And one could stretch the imagination further, and think of ways a person might greet another that would shock even a human. And with her hands beneath her blankets, Michael thought of many, many ways her Captain might have told her hello.

\--

“What are you thinking of?” Georgiou asked Michael. She had set aside a short stretch of time each day to be alone with her newest ensign. To get the two of us acquainted, she had explained. These meetings were bright, sometimes confusing spots in Michael’s day, and they would continue well beyond her onboarding.

“The way that I am seen by the crew,” Michael said. “Or perhaps by the world.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m often treated as though I am a vulcan, and often, too, as though I am a human. And neither one happens at times when the assumption would be advantageous to me.” Michael smoothed out a crease in the pants of her uniform. “Or so I sometimes think.”

“Hmm,” said Georgiou. “It often appears that you would prefer to be seen as a vulcan.”

“I would prefer to be seen as what I am.”

Georgiou chuckled. “That is sensible, Ensign Burnham.”

“Do you think,” Michael asked after a moment, “that the burden of cultural sensitivity rests more with the guest, or the host?”

“In general?”

Michael nodded.

Georgiou rubbed her chin before answering. “In my view, the burden rests more with everyone. I never met a being who couldn’t stand to be a bit more sensitive.”

Michael considered this. “Perhaps I would do better to see it that way.”

“Hmm?”

“When we met… I thought your gesture of greeting rude, as it would be on Vulcan. But to shun such a gesture is rude among humans.” Michael swallowed. “You merit more thoughtful treatment, Captain.”

She reached out, just as Georgiou had when they met.

Georgiou studied Michael’s proffered hand. Then she smiled, leaned forward, and shook it.

Soft hands. Slightly firm grip.

“I was not expecting that,” said Georgiou. She didn’t seem put out.

Michael lifted one eyebrow. “I am a vulcan, Captain, but I intend to demonstrate that I’m a human, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> In 20-some years of life, I have literally never written a fanfic before. Be nice to me! :)


End file.
